Requiem of the Damned
by Draco135-60
Summary: The path of salvation lies beyond the borders of life and death. Sins of the past weigh heavy on the present and influence an uncertain future. Sequel to Last Warrior of Lordaeron.
1. Author's Note: An Introduction

**An Introduction to "Requiem of the Damned"**

Greetings and salutations good reader,

I'd like to thank you for choosing to read my story or at the very least choosing to click on the link to it out of sheer curiosity or boredom. I write this introduction in hope that you will not be all together disappointed in the time it takes to find a good work of fiction or in this case fan fiction. But I am not one to disappoint (or at least try not too) in my endeavor to become a good writer of fiction as I take ample time to produce these stories (believe it or not this is my "hobby" in between my ever-demanding busy schedule).

To my credit, this is NOT (note the emphatic capitalization) my first fanfic that I have written for this site or others. This Warcraft fiction is actually a sequel to my first Warcraft fic, The Last Warrior of Lordaeron, and I'm using this story to make final resolution to it all and quite possibly prove that I can finish what I start.

For NEW READERS! I have some background information for you, in case you don't know what's going on entirely. By all means (and it's suggested but not required) you could search for my other Warcraft fic to catch up to this sequel but if you choose to not to you can read. However there are SPOILERS for the first story if you haven't read it yet.

**Summary of Last Warrior of Lordaeron **

Orias, the sole surviving paladin of the Capital City slaughter, had been charged to protect a band of refugees that fled from the war torn city.

Joined with a dwarven merchant group lead by the brothers Banquo Thunderhand and Menteith EagleEye (brothers by marital ties), the band of refugees flees to the mountains above and beyond Tirisfal Glades. There upon finding a mountain fortress they establish a small refugee town, surviving on supplies from Goblin Merchants bought with mined gold from the mountains.

Several months passed and the small town in the mountains prospered secretly. However, an attack by Gnoll raiders infect with undead blight causes the town to turn desperate action in fear of being discovered. The decision to seal themselves off from the outside world by destroying the only entering mountain passes. This decision was however delayed when a discovery of a sizeable squadron of soldiers from the Lordaeron Army that was previously under the command of the Grand Marshal Garithos, no under the command of Lieutenant Anteus Windrath, had sought the town for sanctuary. They were invited into the mountain refugee town with mixed emotions and reactions.

As the passes were about to be sealed, an undead legion of the Forsaken had followed the Lordaeron Army survivors into the mountains. Upon the Undead's discovery of the town and bypassing the sealed passes, unrelenting sieges were made at the town's two defending gates. The defenders had repelled three sieges successfully but at great cost.

Danaris, captain of the gate guards and Orias' childhood friend, was killed in a barrage of arrows. Orias blames himself for his death as Danaris held the Undead back while trying to save Orias when he was injured by two rogue arrows.

With disturbing visions, haunting revelations, and a desperate plea to fulfill his duty, Orias turns to a power of the past. Upon reading his father's journal given to him by his ailing mentor, Socrates, he discovers an armor of great power. He entreats a dying Socrates to show him where the armor is hidden. Socrates wary of Orias' past plight warns him of such a power but Orias succeeds in discovering the armor's location.

Donning this new armor, he succeeds in repelling an entire undead army by his own power. He however learns that such power had come at great cost, more than he ever realized.

He continues to uses the armor's powers to protect the refugees and the woman he had fallen in love with, a nobleman's renegade daughter who had joined Orias in his escape from the capital, Sara. He uses the armor's powers in hope that he could save all of them by sacrificing himself as the refugees fled from the mountain town through a series of uncharted caverns deep within the mountains. He is in however denied this act.

On the eve of the final siege, Orias is compelled to the mountain top by the ghost of his former mentor. He was tricked and spirited away to a hellish ethereal realm of an Old God. The powers of the armor originated from a testament of power of the Old God in the past to lure unsuspecting mortals to its ultimate cause, desolation of the world of Azeroth.

The Old God moved to break Orias' spirit by making him watch as all his loved ones perished in front of him during the Forsaken's final siege while he could do nothing but tear at himself in the ethereal prison.

In the end, the bulk of the refugees managed to escape but only through the price paid by their defenders. Banquo, Menteith, and Anteus fell to the Forsaken's hordes of undead. Sara was the last to fall but her death weighed heavily upon Orias. He immediately questions his principles and reels at his failure to fulfill the promise to protect what was most precious to him. The Old God moves to mock Orias and tells him he is only an instrument of fate and he will used well to compel the final apocalypse upon the world of Azeroth.

The Old God sends Orias back to reality. Orias returns to the town broken among the ruins. He finds Sara in the town square and spends of moment of deep regret and sorrow with her. Undead riders discovering Orias attempted to close in on him. Orias in turn uses the power of the armor to erupt into a terrible display of power. In a great inferno, the entire town was engulfed in flame and was left with but nothing ash.

But the question remains if ash was all that was produced from the site of destruction.

Unknowing to all…something emerged from the ashes of old…

It now wanders the forests of the unknown…


	2. Prelude: Passage of the Tides

**Prelude: Passage of the Tides**

_Log Entry #531_

_The storm seems to have subsided and the seas have grown calm. A saving grace in these troubled times are rare. The news in past months has not been well._

_I have not heard from Daelin Proudmoore for quite some time. His fleets braved the Maelstrom to lands out west. He searches for family there, a wayward daughter seemingly lost to the mystery of what lies beyond the great storm. I pray that he finds her in good faith. I sympathize with his cause. But there have been no news of either of these lost souls in the storm. It is a hindrance to me that he has not returned. My proposition would have held steadier with his hand to support it. My entreaties to the good people of the island nation of Kul Tiras have turned to dismay. None would support the expedition. None would seek to save what is already condemned. None would hear the word "salvation". It is replaced instead with "survival". _

_This is why I am only more grateful to Proudmoore's son, Tandred. He knew the risks he was taking in offering me his ships, soldiers, and his aid upon my journey. Kul Tiras' fleets are weak now, a shadow of its former glories. I could not rely upon its former strengths as I have known it for in the past. Tandred could only loan me a parcel of its fleeting strength to contribute to my endeavor. A fleet of twelve new battleships have come under my command, along with 1,000 veteran soldiers and sailors still battle hardened from the Second War. Men who have seen war as I have. But they have yet to see the war that had been waged in Lordaeron nor the light-forsaken horrors that now lie within those lands. _

_Rallying an army in these dark times has proven to be a more strenuous task than I had remembered. I have dissented to call in some old favors from the past to help drive the effort. In doing so recruited 1,700 soldiers and mercenaries as well as 23 destroyers. It was unfortunate to find however that more than half of the destroyers given to me in disgraceful condition. Seven of the destroyers were disposed of in turn for reconstruction of the rest. The ships however were the least of my concerns. Disillusioning the vain and proud among the conscripts has proven to be a more challenging task than patching rickety ships. Ships do not possess contemptible pride. These soldiers have skirmished with murlocs on riverbanks and guarded the silent halls of unused fortresses. They do not deserve to give themselves half the airs of a glory bound warrior. They are more comparable to a braying ass that carries a sword. Contemptible pride has no place on the fields of war. I have learned this lesson all too well._

_The nation of Stormwind has not moved from their stubborn stance on "containment", they would do nothing. A small united front of paladins from Stormwind however has joined our cause. It is a band of 300 paladins; most are newly inducted to the order to recoup losses in the Third War. Though among them are some of the few resilient paladins who survived the onslaught of the undead armies known as the Scourge. The tales that they retell are haunting and disturbing. The slaughter of the paladin order in Lordaeron by the traitor crown prince is a tale they frequently return to. But what has disturbed me the most was the response to such atrocities. There are rumors that travel from Lordaeron to Kul Tiras about survivors from the Silver Hand that have formed a new army under a blood red banner. I know very little about this new army. I have heard that they devote themselves to the cause of driving the undead from Lordaeron but I do not believe that their mission was created out of the purity of just cause. There have been other stories. Rumors that the blood-letting does not stop at the undead but the refugees that had come in contact with the undead as well. It seems that their stance is incorrigible. Their battle fervor must root from blood lust or insanity to drive them to kill their own people. They may fight the undead as we do but they are a threat in themselves. We are not likely to join hands with those who have already stained them with innocent blood. It is hard to believe that men of the Light can turn to such actions but upon hearing the tales from the Third War maybe it is all the more believable. Men have turned to worse things in war; I have seen it many times over. _

_There are very little allies to rely upon in landing in Lordaeron. The city of Dalaran has been reclaimed by Alliance forces but we can expect no help from them, mages in our company who have ties to the Kirin Tor have assured me of this. So thus our landfall must be forced to create a base of operations. With an army of more than 3,000 men, 28 warships, and a gambit…I hope to accomplish this._

_Darian…my brother, I do not know what I will find in Lordaeron. It has become a hellish realm of death and despair. The very skies that hang over the forsaken place are a dark, encompassing shadow on dead lands. But as Proudmoore braved the storm in search of family, I too shall brave the hellish forgotten lands in search of your son. There is no doubt in my mind that he is still alive. He retains Maria's persistent will and your sense of good judgment. He is not one to die so easily, I know him better than that. I foresee better days in these troubled times. It is a time when man can hope to redeem himself of sins of the past, with actions made in this present time, to ensure the brighter future upon the horizons. It is in this hope that one day when I come to meet you…I can hold my head up and face you eye to eye and with not sign of regret, remorse, or shame in them. I write these words with my sincerest wishes and seal them with unwavering resolve. _

_May my actions honor these words,_

_Julius Veren_

_Fleet Admiral of the United Alliance Expeditionary Forces_

_Signed from the battleship, the Aegis _


	3. Choice

**Chapter 1: Choice  
**

* * *

"_Evil can take no good man in either life or in death. It is only when man chooses to take that evil within themselves, does he become something truly horrible."_

** -**_Socrates Methede  
Steward of the Capital City Libraries  
Scribe of the Second War_

* * *

Who am I? 

This single coherent thought was all that escaped the confines of my disoriented mind in the past few days. These few days that I can barely recall. How long have I suffered in this wilderness?

Day and night are not easily conceived when the sky had turned to an eternal twilight, forever trapped between the fading light of day and the gloom of night. Yet I can still perceive the passage of time through some innate sense that I can not fully understand.

As days past after the first, single coherent thought passed within my mind, the knowledge of pain gradually receded as if the flames inside me have started to waver and fade. I was returned to this world to finally make sense of things.

I discovered that I was now in a dense forest of dead trees and laying on a winding dirt trail. Compelling my body to move, I strained to raise myself to my feet. I grasped at the nearest tree to keep my balance. As I touched upon the tree, I was startled to find that I could not feel it. I could no longer feel the tree's rough bark against the palm of my hand.

I looked upon my hands to find them bound to armored gauntlets. It was strange that I had not realized that I wore such a thing. As I clasped my hand on one of the gauntlets, I found it irremovable. The other gauntlet was the same and seemingly attached to my skin.

I continued to look downward towards the earth and found that it had recently rained. The dirt underfoot had softened to mud and still murky puddles lay strewn across the trail. I walked slowly towards the nearest pool, still retaining fresh rainwater, and started to lower my hand down toward it. Water…I would think after all this time that I would grow thirsty.

However, my hand stopped short of upsetting the water's surface. I gazed into the pool and saw a reflection of something I have never seen before. A monstrosity unseen to mortal's eyes.

I recoiled and stepped away from the pool of water and turned in frenzy. I looked in every direction at every side of the forest but found no sign of the monster.

I turned back and gazed at the pool again. The monstrosity was still present in the pool's reflection. I extended my hand out again towards the pool's waters and touched it at its very surface. A sharp jolt of pain rippled throughout my body. A flash of distorted images clouded my sight and a shrill noise deafened my hearing.

Blood. Screams. Thunder. Lightning. Rain. Fire. Ash.

The images released a flood of memories.

Yes…I know now of the man that I once was.

My name was Orias Keleth, son of Darian and Maria Keleth.

I was a paladin to Lordaeron's paladin order.

On the day of the attacks on the Capital City, I was charged by my mentor, Buzan, to protect a band of refugees with my life.

I would have done anything to protect them but--what were those words? Socrates what were those words you said to me before I had taken up this cursed mantle?

I had sacrificed everything and yet…they are all…

Sara…? What have I done?

I realize now that there was no other that cast its image upon the pool of water…what I see now is a reflection of myself. This is what I have become.

The reflection revealed to me the distorted changes from my former self. An armor once worthy of kings, it was no longer. The former gold and silver luster was now replaced with a charred black plate. The etched runes that run across the armor were all that remained constant. It was forever a reminder of my failure to heed its message, to its engraved warning. My own eyes illuminated an unnatural essence of light, a fiery blaze of soulless light.

I raised my hand to the helm. The hand that could not feel met a face that could no longer show itself as human. I grasped at the face plate of the helm and tried to rip it away, clawing away at the horrendous mask but found it irremovable.

Damn it all…what happened in that fire? What happened in that fire to have turned me into this? The flame had engulfed me and I had thought it had destroyed me. I have tried relentlessly to try and remember the moments after the blaze but found nothing.

_What are you?_

A voice? I turned behind me but found no one. Where was this voice coming from?

_Tell me what you are. Respond._

I turned from side to side in frantic search of the source. I had sensed it again, the feeling, the connection that draws me toward the voice. This familiarity was unnatural. I did not recognize the voice but by the same second sense, I knew who spoke.

I drew my sword from the hilt by reflex. I did not even realize I still possessed the blade until I drew it. But paranoia had struck me to return to base instincts. I feared the voice that calls out to me. I was willing to strike at it to prevent it from drawing me any closer to its cry.

I looked at the path before me. It was there I found the dark hooded figure standing on that path. The hooded figure stood still as if it were any of the innumerable dead trees in the forest

_It has taken me some time but at last I have found you. _

An old pain returned and crippled my movement. I know who you are. You are the specter of death that cast its dreaded shadow on those who were not meant to die. You killed her…it was you. You turned me into a monster. You took everything from me!

I forced my sword arm to move and raised it above me. An eruption of energy flowed anew from the armor's core. As my sword fell, flames burst from the blade and quickly engulfed the land before me.

I expected nothing but ash in the wake of the destruction. I had expected the dark hooded figure to disappear from the path before me. My expectations were not realized. As I looked on I saw the translucent light of a fading jade green sphere in place of the hooded figure. The sphere suddenly stopped illuminating its emerald light and, as if it were glass, shattered. The dark hooded figure was revealed to have been residing in the protective sphere, untouched by the flame.

"Impressive even if futile, that was several layers of an anti-magic barrier that you just broke through. It seems the time I took to find you was well spent." The hooded figure said in a satisfied tone.

"I would however refrain from doing that again. You are after all, surrounded."

My senses drew another presence. No, there was more than one presence; it was a multitude that surrounded this forest. I heard the fel whispers upon the air and discerned them to be banshees. There were too many, how was I unable to sense their presence until now? Was it this being before me that had clouded my senses?

"Now that I have found you, I want some answers. What are you?"

_Respond._

How is it that the voice is still in my head? Why does it continue to call out to me?

I relented to respond and resisted the voice.

"How strange. You still refuse to respond even after--No, then you must not be dead yet."

The dark hooded figure had raised its hand to remove the hood and show its face to me,

I recognized it without ever having to lay my eyes on it. Her presence alone was enough to realize who stood before me.

The undead elven general, the one proclaimed as the Dark Lady, leader of the Forsaken, the Banshee Queen.

"If you are not one of us, then what are you? You are certainly not alive. Maybe you are not human or at least not anymore." The Banshee Queen continued.

She started to circle around me. I could see that she observed me with some length of interest.

"I remember you."

_The warrior upon the mountain. _

"You might know who I am."

_I shot you. You should have died from the poison that was injected into you. You should have died._

"Silence your voice, banshee! Get out of my head!" I cried out.

The voice did not relent; instead the whispers grew louder; almost deafening. I thrashed about, and then drew away from the violent sounds with my sword in hand. I felt a sudden slip into madness, the forest had turned to a haunting ground, the shrill cries would not stop and I had started to see delusive visions of the shadow slowly creeping from the Banshee Queen.

_Do you fear me?_

I held my hand against my helm, trying desperately to keep hold of my mind.

_You should._

I tried to resist…return to saneness of thought.

_Or maybe it is I who should fear you._

I held my focus on the Banshee Queen. Her face, it was unmistakable, she smiled. It was a fleeting smile, a sadistic smile, a smile that revealed that she took pleasure in this passive torture.

But in the next instance, before I could even realize it, the cries were suddenly silenced. The voice was turned out, no longer treading within the confines of my mind. She waited until I could return to a stable consciousness.

"It was quite a display you made on the mountain. Had I chosen to stay to hunt the remaining vermin, I would not be standing before you on this day of days."

"What are you talking about?"

"You do not remember? Not any of it?"

"No…I do not."

Again, the satisfied smile slowly showed itself across her face. She moved again but kept her distance from me.

"Both ignorant and powerful, you are a dangerous thing indeed. But there is no doubt that you can prove useful to me. Although I do not know what you are, I know what you are capable of and in essence that is all that I need to know."

"What is it that you want from me, banshee?"

"I want you to serve me as you are meant to."

"Serve you? What obligation do I have to you, contemptuous witch?"

The Banshee Queen refused to reply. Instead she turned from me and started to walk down the dirt trail.

"Did you hate me for it? For killing them?" The Banshee Queen stopped to say.

This time, it was I who refused to reply. I coldly sheathed my blade and turned away from the dirt trail path in the opposite direction and started to walk away.

"You blame me for their deaths. You feel that I was the cause but…you are the one who felt responsible for failing to protect them. Do you not? You felt that you were the one who let them die because despite everything you have done, fate consumed them and it has also consumed you hasn't it?"

"How would you know that? How would you know any of it?"

"If you are willing to believe the words that I speak are in truth then consider this as a fundamental truth. You and I are connected more than just by the strands of fate. Follow me along this path and I will show you where it ends."

She started down the path again. I did not know what had compelled me to follow but I was drawn down the path to one of the mountains edges that peaked out of the clearing of dead trees. She was there waiting for me but did not turn to see if I had actually followed. Her focus was on something below the mountain.

I came beside her and peered over the mountains edge.

I could not believe what I had seen.

"They have been traveling for quite some time. It is surprising that I still found them alive when I did. They keep hidden very well."

At first, I thought it to be a dream or another deception of the mind but as I looked on, I knew my final, fleeting hopes had become a reality. They had survived…the caravan. They had made it through the mountain caverns alive.

I searched the crowd of refugees in hopes of finding a familiar face. I discovered the caravan being led by Kelv, one of Banquo's former gyrocopter pilots. He looked battered but not much worse for wear. Not far behind him was Jessica.

Jessica was beside a horse dragging a covered wagon, the same covered wagon that was filled with the children from the orphanage. She kept close to the horse as she guided it by holding onto its reigns. Her head turned cautiously in several directions toward the forest but she frequently turned her head back to the covered wagon to keep a close eye on the condition of the children. A shot of pain suddenly interrupted my thoughts.

More images appeared and more memories were revealed to me. Gabriel was still injured. I remember the gash on her leg that she received during the escape. Jessica had no doubt treated the wound but why did she continue to look back inside the covered wagon?

"Tell me, Orias, how long do you think they would last?" The Dark Lady asked.

"What?"

"They have survived this long because they have stayed well hidden but if they were discovered, by some strange twist of fate, how long do you think they would last?"

At that moment, I felt it. The dark sense, an undeniable connection that I could not explain. It was the same faint feeling that I had experienced on the mountain. The many Undead that whisper the same whisper within their dark minds, the intent to kill.

"Do you sense them? Out there among the caravan?"

The connection suddenly grew stronger; multiple presences were made clear to me. Burrowed crypt fiends lined the entire path the caravan was on. Each horrendous spider was silently hidden under the very soil the caravan treaded on. There was more than just the crypt fiends buried underneath the blighted ground. Hidden above the forest trail upon hanging cliff sides of adjoining mountains were a cluster of gargoyles in their petrified state, looming over the unaware caravan.

It did not take more than a moments thought to draw my sword out. The Banshee Queen holds control over these monsters; I needed only to cut her throat to stop this. My sword sliced the air.

_Stay your blade. _

A sudden force held me still at the moment of the strike. I was but a hair length away from the neck, yet I could not cut her. My hand shook as an unnatural paralysis took hold of it.

"So it seems I do hold some control over you, even if only a slight one."

I held the sword firmly at her neck but she would not relent in spite of me.

"Damn you…call off your beasts, wretched banshee!"

"And if I should refuse? What would you do then? Would you go as far as to try to call upon your powers again to create another inferno and try to finish me that way? Do you think they will survive the flame a second time?"

I fell silent; I knew not what to do. I can not kill her, in order to save them. I can not use the power, in fear of condemning them. I could not reach them to save them all. What was I left to do? As a warrior and a soldier, I was obligated to defend them but I…

I drew away my sword from the Dark Lady's neck and sheathed it. I turned away from the mountain's edge and started to set off on a different path from the mountain trail.

"Are you abandoning them? Are you leaving them to die?" The Dark Lady asked.

"It is as you said before, I am no longer human. I retain nothing of my former self. That man died upon the mountain. That man died as he lost everything that had mattered to him. I am but a shadow of that man. Shadows hold no concerns or obligations; they know only to fade away into the darkness."

I walked away from the peak and continued down the opposite path.

_Is it choice, shadow?_

I stopped as my head started to ache again.

_Or is it fate? Are you meant to walk away or do you choose to save them?_

"Get out of my head."

_If I order the attack, what would you choose to do or rather what are you fated to do?_

"Shut up…smother your vile voice, banshee!"

_Fated to play the hero or fated to play the monster?_

"Enough! Enough of it all…"

_Choose, shadow. Their time is up._

"Stop!"

I turned back toward the peak where the Banshee Queen stood at the end of the trail.

"Name your price…" I whispered.

"What was that you said?"

"Name you price, banshee! For their safety…name your price."

The shadow could not conceal the sense of satisfaction that the Banshee Queen had gained. She turned from me and looked down again towards the caravan.

"I will offer you a deal, _Keirath._ I will provide them protection as they travel through my lands. But it is you who must guide them to Hearthglen. It is there I have arranged a transport to take them out of these lands. In turn, _Keirath_…"

The Banshee Queen paced slowly towards me.

"For the time being, you shall swear absolute fealty to me and serve me without question."

As the Banshee Queen passed me, I caught a fleeting glance.

"Consider this as a welcome opportunity, _Keirath_. Not many are given the second chance to amend for mistakes from their pasts. I envy you."


	4. Guardian

**Chapter 2: Guardian**

* * *

"_I was given the authority to decide the safety of these hundreds of lives the very second we marched from the capital. When I was entrusted to protect their lives, I was willing to give my own."_

-_Orias Keleth  
Knight of the Silver Hand  
Defender of the Capitol City remnants  
_

* * *

"You're troubled…you have questions on your mind. Voice them."

"Stay out of my head."

"You can concentrate better on your task with a tranquil mind than one filled with unanswered questions."

"I have nothing to say."

"Liar."

"I…"

"The attacks? Is that what your mind dwells on?"

"Were you--?"

"I was there. And yes, I killed my share of refugees. The capitol? The defenders? Pitiful."

"You killed them."

"I was ordered to."

"That is no excuse for slaughtering--"

"I was not alone in the act. Arthas and Kel'thuzad killed much more; many more. It was Arthas who launched the first attack against the paladin stronghold. He cleaved every one of those paladins himself. They fought well but in the end, there were no clean deaths. Arthas was not so obliging. He never was. But…you escaped all that didn't you?"

"It was Buzan who sent me away. I did not want to leave."

"Than you were fortunate, were you not?"

"Fortunate? Even after the departure from the capitol, your kind continued to hunt us. You turned us into animals and drove us into the wild!"

"It was not my intention. Regardless of the attacks, many of you continued to persist. Originally, I had thought not enough of you had escaped into the mountains. I did not intend to hunt the rest of your kind because I did not realize that your ragged army still existed. I was disappointed to find otherwise. It was a stumbling of fate and a product of necessity that led to the extermination of your kind before a persistent infection begins to hinder my hold on these lands. After all, these lands are now for the Forsaken, the forgotten and the cursed. The living do not belong here."

"Who are you to decide that? Who are you to play with the lives of others?"

"I was dealt this hand by fate, _Keirath_. It was not by choice. I did not choose to be this way. Fate had molded me into what you see before you."

"Fate does not govern free will. I need only to choose to destroy you and end whatever ill-fated ties that fate has bound me to."

"Yet why have you not already done so, _Keirath_? Is it not by this twisted fate that your small instance of free will has been taken away from you? An agonizing experience that I can very well sympathize with. The option of choice is often taken for granted. But I must digress for now…"

"What is it? Have they met their destination?"

"No."

"Then?"

"They are lost."

I peered over the edge of the cliff side to find the caravan still among the dead trees. I had followed them through the forests, staying hidden among the shadows. It has been this way for several days along this wretched path. But how much longer? I pondered on this question with each step into the forest.

They have not encountered the Undead but this has only made them more uneasy. They fear that the attacks are imminent and unavoidable. I have not seen fear this palpable since the first departure from the Capitol City.

I had thought they have stayed true to the right path. However, uncertainty fell upon many of them quickly when the caravan was at a sudden halt. This made me fear that they had lost their way.

The Dark Lady loomed at my side as I observed all of this. I heard a sudden creak of the bow and string. She was aiming towards the caravan.

I started to raise my hand in protest but a cross look at the edge of her red eyes stopped me from pursuing any further resistance. I was reminded that I was to guide them through this path. If I failed to act, she would be the one to spurn them forward.

I left the cliff edge to find another clearing to observe from. I sped through the maze of brush and bark, knowing full well that any misstep on my part of the contemptible contract I struck up with the Dark Lady would lead to their demise. These parts of the woods were filled with ghouls. There were many of them and they waited hungrily.

I need only to find some way to communicate with the caravan. But I know this task was impossible to accomplish in my present form. I am nothing as I once was, neither in spirit nor form. They would not recognize me.

_Wait._

The faint calling stopped me. The voice was not of the Banshee Queen's but it was familiar. I became still, waiting for the voice to call again.

_We've lost our way, haven't we?_

The voice was stronger now. I could hear it with new clarity of sound.

_Do you know the way?_

My vision of the forest started to blur into darkness. What manner of magic is this?

"Agnar…do you know the way?"

Agnar? How is it that I have been suddenly transported to this part of the forest? I see Agnar as if he was plainly before me. He had settled on a large mossy rock, wiped the sweat from his brow, and continued to look out at the trails. From my view, he seemed to be not more than a few feet away from me. But…he does not seem to be aware of my presence. Jessica was not far behind him but she lingered at a distance closer to the caravan.

"Aye…this is a confusing patch of trees that I've run into now."

"They look like the same trees we've passed before. Are you sure that we are on the right path?" Jessica replied discouragingly

"Ugh…I need a drink."

"Agnar! How can you say such a thing at a time like this?"

"Sorry, lass. It's just that things don't look the same from down here as it did up there. I'm a pilot, not a trail blazer. Menteith knew the forests well. He shoulda came with us. Hell, they all shoulda came with us. None of'em deserved to rot on that mountain. None of'em."

"They stayed, so we could escape. There is nothing more we can do for them except to push forward, Agnar."

Agnar shifted in his seat and rested both hands on the top of his crutch. He attempted to raise his eyes toward Jessica but he seemed as if he was ashamed to do so. He kept his eyes firmly at the blighted ground.

"How long did you think they lasted?"

Jessica sharply turned to face, Agnar. But Agnar kept his eyes to the ground to avoid the reproachful gaze.

"Why would you ask such a thing?" Jessica asked in a distressed tone.

"Not tryin' to make any morbid guesses, miss, if that's what yer thinkin'. I'm just curious that's all."

"I would save your curiosity for another time, Agnar. I have no wish to hear--"

"You saw it didn't you?"

Jessica suddenly turned silent and turned away from Agnar.

"We all felt it. The force of the explosion. We were all lucky enough to be well away from the flame. But you and the others at the end of caravan, you were all close enough to see the light of the explosion. What I don't understand is why you are all so tight lipped about it. I wondered if it was another of Menteith's explosives that went off, the same ones that blew the caverns closed. But it was too big, way too big to be one of Menteith's. What happened back there, Jess?"

"I heard a scream."

"Eh? Come again?"

Agnar gave Jessica a strange look as he shifted his head from left to right. He cleared his left ear with his right finger and tried to listen again.

"I don't hear no--"

"No, on the mountain. During the explosion."

"Aye, aye…of course, that's what you meant. Humph…must've been a hell raising scream to have been heard above an explosion, lass. But was that all? Is that all that--?"

"The scream wasn't human, Agnar. It was…an unnatural cry and yet…"

"And yet?"

"It seemed as if I knew who was calling out to us, beyond the barrier that separated those who have left and the others who have been left behind."

"Who was calling out to you, Jess?"

"I…"

_Keirath_

My vision blurred, Agnar and Jessica disappeared from my sight. As the vision disappeared from me, I realize I have not moved from where I had stood.

_Do you realize this forest is filled with ghouls? Do you sense them?_

"Yes, I sense their foul presence." I replied in contempt.

_Most are under my control. There are several near the caravan, currently feeding._

"What are you suggesting?"

_Use them to drive them from the forest._

"I refuse."

_It is not an option._

Another blur and another vision came into my sight, along with sounds of gnashing teeth and ripping of flesh from bone. A distinct smell lingered in this region of the forest, the smell of rotting death.

Several ghouls were busily feeding from a freshly killed misshapen troll. One of the disgusting beasts raised its head as if it caught sight of something of interest. The other ghouls also ceased to feed and raised their heads as well.

_It is like a constant whisper in their minds. A constant note of control. They heed it without thought, without resignation. They are slaves to the whisper._

The ghouls cast aside their meal and quickly bounded away. I was perplexed at the ghouls' sudden actions. Was it the Dark Lady that called them? Or was it I?

The scene blurred again and I was returned to the region of forest that contained the bulk of the caravan. Jessica had returned to the covered wagon and held Gabriel in her arms.

She was not moving. Her breaths were shallow and the wound on her leg had spread with the black veins of the plagued poison.

Bailey was in the wagon as well, mustering several liquid concoctions in an attempt to treat the wound. Roland was beside his sister, carefully watching each breath that his sister drew.

"It's gotten worse." Bailey said grimly.

"Is there anything more that you can do? Just for a few more days. She just needs to hold on for a few more days and we'll reach a port. Just a few more days." Jessica desperately pleaded.

Bailey calmly looked at Jessica and glanced over at Roland, who continued to carefully watch over his ailing sister. Bailey released a long held, heavy sigh and reached inside a small leather pouch that he keeps at his side.

"A few more days, I can give you but…I can't say how much longer we can continue like this. Hold her close, this might sting."

Bailey opened another glass container filled with a strange green liquid and poured it over the wound. Jessica held Gabriel tightly as she cringed violently as the medicine was applied.

"Shh…its okay. It's all done now." Jessica said softly to Gabriel as she returned to her motionless state.

Jessica carefully laid Gabriel on a small makeshift bed inside the covered wagon. She looked on at the fading patient in a fixed gaze. They know that if they do not reach a port in those few days, desperate measures will be taken.

"We've got trouble." Agnar said as he opened the cloth flap at the entrance of the wagon.

"What's wrong?" Jessica asked.

"It'll be better if we talk outside. Hey kids, how yer' all holdin' up?" Agnar asked in a light tone but he gained no responses.

Jessica left the wagon and followed Agnar at a distance.

"There's something stirrin in that forest."

"Is it the Undead?"

"Hard to say but something is causing all that ruckus and it ain't friendly, I can tell you that much. From the sounds I'm hearin it's something hungry. Don't move that fast unless you're hungry, I should know."

Jessica loosened the side of her cloak and revealed a knife that she had hidden.

"Whoa, lass! I'd put away the kitchen utensils. Knives and the like won't do much good against ghouls, which is what I'm bettin on that's coming right at us. So we should get moving."

"I thought you do not know the way to--"

"I don't but we're headin down the path away from what's comin after us. If they want food they're gonna have to work for it don't you agree, lass?"

Agnar shifted to the side of his crutch and revealed a small rifle, barely half the size of the original. He sifted through his pouch and turned out a small leather bag of gunpowder.

"We can hold'em off as long as we keep moving." Agnar said as he finished loading his gun.

"And I suggest we start moving now."

Agnar drew his gun out and aimed toward the unknown regions of the forest. A loud crack from the gun, and the caravan had suddenly returned to a frantic pace toward the other direction.

The vision expanded my view away from its simple restricted view to a wider scope, allowing me to see beyond the coverings of the dead branches of hollow trees. As the bulk of the caravan was moving away, packs of ghouls moved toward them.

A countless number of them weaved through the forest. Were these many ghouls called only to drive the caravan from its stagnant position?

_Follow them, Keirath. I remind you that not all the ghouls of this forest are mine. _

_The ones that have been set onto your people?_

_They are not mine._


End file.
